


Stop

by UnicornAttack



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bullying, Cutting, Gen, High School, Homophobia, Humanstuck, M/M, Racial slurs, Racism, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornAttack/pseuds/UnicornAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Trevor Nicholls, and you're predominantly Cherokee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop

Sometimes, you lie awake at night and imagine what you would wish for if you had a fairy godmother, or a genie in a lamp. You wish you were white. You wish you were straight. You wish you were good at sports. You wish you didn’t have this stupid, disgustingly thick Boston accent that makes you stand out so much here in Iowa. You wish you didn’t get called a prairie nigger and a fag. You wish you didn’t get shoved into your locker and have your bag taken off you to be used in a game of Monkey in the Middle. You’ve lost count of the amount of names they’ve thrown at you—prairie nigger, bushnigger, buffalo jockey, bow-bender, red-skin, gascan, spruce monkey, and god knows how many others. Back in middle school, before you lost all that weight, you were ‘big red’.

You wear long sleeves these days, even when it’s hot. Momma was curious, of course, but you said you’d been getting sunburn and covering up was easier than constantly applying suncream. She bought it. Why shouldn’t she?

Gavin doesn’t.

It’s a sweltering afternoon in mid-July. You’re upstairs on your computer, scrolling through a bunch of shitty webcomics, and momma calls up to tell you Gavin’s here. Momma likes Gavin. She thinks he’s good for you, whatever that means. You hear him coming up the stairs and into your room. But this time, something’s wrong—he doesn’t sneak up on you and tackle you from behind, tickling you and laughing. You spin around in your chair and he’s leaning up against your door, arms folded.

“We gotta talk,” he says quietly. You’ve never seen him like this before. Oh god, is he breaking up with you?

( _probably he can do better than you anyone could do better than you you’re fucking worthless_ )

“What about?”

“Your arms. Why are you wearing a long-sleeved shirt, Trev? It’s almost ninety degrees outside. _Nobody_ wears long sleeves in that weather.”

“I’ve told you,” you reply defensively, “it’s so I don’t get sunburned.”

“Why not just put suncream on, then? Besides, I’ve known you three years. I’ve never seen you get burned. Please, Trevor, if you’re hiding something, I can help. Just tell me.”

The look in Gavin’s eyes is fucking painful. You feel the tears well up and burst forth, spilling down your cheeks. Feeling ashamed, you bow your head.

“All the time,” you sob hoarsely, “they say things, all the fucking time, and they don’t ever think about what they’re saying, because I don’t mean anything to them. And it…it…”

Your words trail off into insensibility, and Gavin is holding you and stroking your hair and kissing you and wiping away your tears.

“It’s OK. It’s all OK, baby, I’m here, yeah? I’m here. I got you…oh, Trevor, god…”

You’ve rolled up your sleeves. The scars on your arms stand out cruelly, red and angry, some fresher than others. You sob into his t-shirt, feeling disgusting and horrible and _wrong_. He holds you close and whispers to you that he loves you, it’s all gonna be OK, he’s there.

You just want it all to stop. Everything. Please, god, just _stop_ … 


End file.
